Let Things Get Old

And all the people said Amen.

Give thanks to the Lord,

For His love never ends,

And all the people said Amen.

– All The People Said Amen Matt Maher

 

There is something otherworldly about a song.

Words alone cannot quite make sense of a song. A book can teach its theory. Notes can give you its hints, but until you hear one, until the melodies flow, it will never completely make sense.

Have you ever tried to tell someone about a new song you heard? It’s so frustrating! Even if they listen to your elaborate descriptions, you will always be left with this feeling of “You will just have to listen to it sometime…”

I wonder if the frustration comes from the power of a good song. Almost as if the more a song moves our heart – that beyond words personal connection – the more it increases our borderline despair when someone just does not get it. Because we felt it, we become desperate when someone can’t see it.

Or, possibly even worse, have you ever shown someone a song you love and they just don’t “get it?” It’s like popping a balloon. What? How could you not like this!?! It’s the Fugees! THE! FUGEES!

Then, when we take music and turn it back to the one that gave us all beauty and truth, we experience the exponential power of a song. We are able to sing songs that are not just good, but of God. The difference is beyond words.

The created, singing humble creations back to the One who created it all.

All of this makes me think especially of today… because Sheri and I celebrate 9 years of song writing today. I am a sucker for nostalgia, so these days amp it to 11.

It has been such a wondrous, heart wrenching, joy filled, terrifying, humbling, loving and worth it journey so far…

I heard a lot of advice before I got married.

People talked to me about communication, joint bank accounts, sacrifice and running a household. Some gave me amazing advice without realizing it.  Others gave me very awkward advice with (I hope) good intentions? Sheri’s and my counselor encouraged us, our parents prayed their hearts out and books seldom helped it make sense.

In the end, the only way to learn the song is to start writing.

To make the mistakes (which I am good at).

To arrange the notes (Sheri’s thing).

To forgive and keep playing (our thing).

No one can ever really prepare you for the things that are worth giving your life to.

Why do we cheer when we see couples celebrating their 60^th anniversary? I think it is because those that do hard things entrance us. We are inspired by those who do not give up. It awakens the deep in our hearts when we hear of songs that are becoming harder and harder to hear in our world.

So much beauty is lost on the altar of the “more convenient” without the realization that all art requires work. No one just creates a masterpiece. No couple is brilliant right out the gate.

My 3 year old can sit at the piano and enthusiastically play out stacks of notes. What he cannot do yet is play a song. He has not learned the rules. He does not yet understand that the most creative songs are the result of musical arrangements and how the notes do and do not work. Just playing whichever note feels right in the moment will end in lots of noise and nothing else.

Ever seen a couple that seems to thrive on tearing the other apart in front of others? It’s awkward. It’s like watching a concert where the band is playing two different songs and everyone but the actual band knows it. No one is even sure what to do, just that this is not working…

There is power in a song lived well.

What if, instead of yelling about the decline of families, how marriages are under attack and empty laments about how “they” are ruining everything, we started making such beautiful songs that people could not do anything but stop and take notice?

True joy is hard to look away from.

What if we could take our songs as couples, and play them so beautifully that we not only make our God proud, but we help others play beautiful notes as well?

In a world that preaches the importance of the next new thing, what if we let things get old and graceful? No one stares at a newly planted tree in incredulity (I know, my backyard is full of them). The trees everyone loves are the old, tall, mature trees that generations can sit under and relax around in peace.

They shelter.

They provide.

They sway gently in the storms.

What difference would it make to know that when I feel down and out, I could hear the music being played in my church and neighborhoods, and Sheri and I would be encouraged in our own song writing?

What if you could see the glory of what would happen if you stayed in your marriage another 25 years?

What if thinking of that day got you through this one?

What if your song helped someone else keep writing theirs?

What if how you treated your spouse taught your kids about what love looks like?

What if your prayers together taught each other who is really in charge of the song writing?

My dad says every once in a while, “the best time to plant a tree was 25 years ago. The second best time is today.”

You were born to write a beautiful song.

It’s worth it.

It’s worth it.

It’s worth it.

P.S. Here is an awesome flash mob. Enjoy!  Flash Mob Orchestra